


Full (Care and Comfort Remix)

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Wings, Fluff, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Tony, Intimacy, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pre-realtionship, Remix, Touch-Starved, Wing Grooming, unsure tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 13:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13705452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes





	Full (Care and Comfort Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MusicalLuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Care and Comfort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742046) by [MusicalLuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna). 
  * In response to a prompt by [MusicalLuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna) in the [Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2018) collection. 



The steam is still rolling out of the shower in plumes as Tony tugs on his sweats--a clean tank top, and some ratty grey sweatpants. He feels the tank top get caught on the nubs on his shoulder blades and he flushes, fishing a hand back there to tug it down. He flames with shame and sorrow as he imagines what his wings used to look like, big and glorious and thick black with a gold sheen.

He catches the remnants of his suit in the bathroom mirror and smiles. He lost his wings in that cave but he never lost his ability to fly, never gave up his reign of the sky.

He turns to exit the steamy bathroom and halts when he sees the blood on the exterior of the suit, glinting off the metallic red. It’s Steve’s he knows, and he remembers how wrecked he looked by the end. His wings had been a mess, beaten and out of place. Tony wonders who Steve has had preening them since he’d woken from the ice. It doesn’t take him but a startled moment to realize he’d probably been doing them himself ever since.

Tony huffs, knowing how uncomfortable that can be and sets off to find Steve’s room.

He knocks, timidly, when he gets there. He enters when he hears Steve grant permission and even though he knew the state Steve was in when they’d left the battlefield it is different seeing him on that bed, slumped over in pain, with a tight smile.

He stills, eyes raking over him, feeling Steve’s eyes doing the same. He looks away, shy, when Steve stills on his back, the distinct absence of wings around his shoulder blades. He clears his throat to center back in, blows out a breath as he says, “Jesus, you’re a mess. Do you--do you need a hand?”

Tony watches Steve straighten a little, face paling. He winces when Steve asks, a little scared, “Sorry?”

Tony feels uncomfortable, like he’s been caught by his dad working on a project outside of the restricted parameters of his adolescent work. He feels a hand go up, rubbing the back of his neck as he forces himself to keep eye contact with Steve. He feels like he’s on fire. He doesn’t know how to do this… how not to offend, how not to impose. It’s been years since he’s preened anybody’s wings and even then it was Rhodey and Pepper, two people he knew would never refuse. But he’s a Stark and they never back down so Tony forces himself to repeat it, cursing himself for the way it comes out stuttering. “Help. Did you want some help. With—” He gestures at Steve’s wings and then says, “Or whatever.”

The tips of Steve’s ears blush and Tony drops his hand quickly like he’s been burned. His feet go together and he straightens like a soldier, no, like his father has entered the room. He’s unsure and the only thing he knows what to do when he’s unsure is to backpedal into the control whipped into him since he was young. But he can feel the emotion radiating off of Steve and it doesn’t seem uncomfortable. There’s an intensity swirling in his blue eyes, like the waves in a storm, and Tony can’t quite read it but he feels like he can weather it. Whatever is there captures him. He willingly follows it.

“I’d appreciate that.”

Tony starts at the go-ahead, afraid if he stands for just a moment he’ll back out, lose all his courage. He pats Steve’s shoulder as he moves around to his back, more to ground himself than Steve but it only makes him more jittery as he feels the jolt of electricity trail up his arm at the contact. He parts away from his emotions by going critical, assessing the damage to Steve’s wings. They’re not great, there are broken feathers stuck in the rest of the plumage and points where Steve’s skin has been torn, blood seeping into the thick forest of feathers. But Tony knows in just a little time they’ll be good as new. He relays this to Steve in a sympathetic tone, “Uniform’s still intact, that’s good. Shame I can’t come up with anything flexible enough to protect your wings. They look rough. You really got put through the wringer today.”

“It was no walk in the park,” Steve agrees and Tony flashes him a quicksilver smile.

Tony goes back to rummaging around in the feathers, fingers light against the damages. He’s forming a plan, trying to find the packing pattern so his hands don’t press the feathers in the wrong direction. He doesn’t want to hurt Steve but he’s rusty. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d repaired his own wings and Pepper had been gone for far too long for him to get used to hers.

Once he’s got a solid plan Tony helps Steve shrug off his undershirt. He holds in a gasp at the muscles rippling across Steve’s pale back. Red, Irish, freckles blooming around his wing joints. As he moves the muscles contract and Tony’s mouth parts slightly. He’s dazed but stutters back into action when goosebumps flow over Steve’s skin.

“Okay, I’m going to touch them now.”

Steve tenses when Tony puts his hands on his back and Steve lets out a gasp, a little shudder rippling through him. Tony doesn’t even realize the noises he’s making as he works, comforting.

“Shh, shh,” Tony murmurs, voice low. “I’m going to get everything back in place, then we’ll clean you up and patch things.”

He doesn’t hear a reply but Steve nods, short and quick, and the tips of his ears are still burning. Tony feels his cheeks flame back up as he continues, the intimacy of this moment rocketing through him. Mates do this, boyfriends, lovers. Steve and Tony are just friends but Tony can’t help but feel there’s something underneath it all. Something with the way Tony works in the lab and Steve sketches on the couch, both comfortable with the silence. Something with the way their voices raise in unbridled panic if one of them goes down in battle. Something about the roaring in Tony’s ears as he continues, hands working even as his brain is whirring, working on something else.

“You okay?” Tony asks when he’s finished the straightening, his hand coming to rest lightly on Steve’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Steve rasps. “I'm—great, actually.”

Tony laughs quietly, feeling a bit of joy at the comment. He’s doing well. At this!  “We’ll see if you still feel that way when I start cleaning.”

Tony leaves for a bit to gather a washcloth and some hot water. He squirts some baby shampoo in there and some coconut oil, watching as it melts. It’s an old trick his mother used on him when he’d spent too long cramped in the lab, black wings heavy with built-up oil and grease.

When he returns Steve’s breathing is steady, Tony smiles. He starts again on the wings, dragging the cloth over the feathers, lightly brushing away crusted blood and dried sweat, polishing them. He stills for a moment when he reaches an area of damage but continues onward, he’s done it before and he has to do it now. He winces when Steve’s breathing ramps up when he goes over the areas of broken skin. In an apology, Tony rubs in ointment over those areas, knowing the menthol will help stop the throbbing and cool the scalding swelling.

By the end, Steve’s like putty in his hands. His eyes are half drooping and there’s a comforted smile on his face.

“How’re you doing?” Tony asks, sliding the washrag into the now-cloudy water. “Better?”

“Fantastic,” Steve mumbles. “Thank you, Tony. Nobody's—”

Tony cuts him off with a sigh, knowing he was right in the bathroom earlier. “Nobody’s helped you preen since you woke up, have they?” Tony more confirms than asks, dancing his fingers over Steve’s shoulder, feeling antsy.

Steve leans into it, “Wasn’t anybody I could trust. Then I didn’t want to presume, so…”

Tony beams, chuckling slightly and bowing his head. “You’re an idiot,” Tony tells him, but he can’t help his adoration from seeping into the words. “You can come to me for preening any time, Steve. Seriously. That goes double after a battle, all right?”

Tony feels full after the offer, feels his heart start to swell a little as he remembers what it feels like to be in a routine with someone. How it feels to spend an hour breaking someone down into a comfort so deep they melt. He hums, remembering the first time he’d done Rhodey’s.

“Thank you,” Steve says, quietly but firmly like he’ll sincerely take Tony up on the offer.

“Yeah, don’t even go there,” Tony says and squeezes the back of Steve’s neck warmly. “Uh. I don’t want to push my luck, but do you want me to oil them, too?” He’s unsure again but he’s feeling as loose as Steve looks. He feels courageous and he’s a little sick of dancing on the safe line between friend and something more. He wants to step over that line.

“Yes. Please, if you—”

Tony doesn’t wait for Steve to finish that sentence, affirming that he does with a squeeze on his shoulder. It’s intimate and flirty but Tony craves the comfort of the idea. He offered and he’s not going to take it back now. “Okay, here goes.”

Tony begins to oil the feathers, fingers slick and gliding over the tops of them. Steve breaks down even further under the treatment, drifting off. Tony adjusts, scooting so he can pull Steve closer to his torso, letting half of him lean into his chest. He’s still got access to one side but this way he knows Steve can relax without falling off the side of the bed. He twirls the fingers on one hand through the hairs on the base of Steve’s neck.

When he’s done with both sides, he pulls away a little, hands resting on the crest of Steve’s hips. He whispers into to fragile silence, “Cap, you still with me?” “

“Mhm, still…” Steve’s voice is sleepy and far off.

Tony tamps down a euphoric smile and laughs softly. Warmth flooding through him. “Okay, I think you’ve got a literal contact high. We’ll talk when you wake up.”

“Sleep,” Steve groans, wanting.

Tony obeys, carefully maneuvering Steve to lay back on his bed. He grabs a blanket draped on a side chair and covers Steve with it, his facial features already smoothed out.

 

Tony smiles, can’t help but feel but feel like he’s full and whole again. The ache of his missing wings gone further into the recesses of his mind. The only thing there is the blooming comfort of what Steve and Tony are inching into, what Tony’s craved for so long. He leaves the room soon after, seeking his own bed and falling asleep on his sheets, content.


End file.
